


The Gravity of Tempered Grace

by ADeedWithoutaName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, Feeder/Feedee, Feeding, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby!Dean, chubby!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName
Summary: Gabriel really should stop feeding Sam so much.  But he doesn't want to.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Gabriel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 146





	The Gravity of Tempered Grace

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the closest thing to PWP I've ever written. I had a concept, a bunch of scenes I wanted to write, and no narrative structure to fit them to, so...here they are.
> 
> I produced a ridiculous amount of worldbuilding for this single smut-centric AU, so you can probably still see remnants of that in here. Ask me if you have any questions!
> 
> Title taken from "Iridescent" by Linkin Park.

_It would appear that you've been overfeeding your…_ Castiel paused. Gabriel could practically feel him pawing around for the right word. _Sam_.

 _Y'know, Cassie, you_ could _just call him my boyfriend._ Gabriel nudged a brownie into better place in the little pyramid of them he'd built on a plate, licking caramel off his finger. _That's what he calls me._

_Don't change the subject, Gabriel. I'm serious._

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and made sure Castiel knew he was doing it. _Okay, Cassafras, I'll bite. What are you talking about, exactly?_ He opened the freezer door with a flick of a finger, brought a container of soft-serve vanilla over, and started piling big, pillowy curls of ice cream into a bowl.

_You already know._

Except Gabriel really, honestly did not, so he let his confusion, the way he was holding his wings, seep over to Castiel as he picked up the bowl of ice cream in one hand and the plate of brownies in the other and left the kitchen. The scapulars on his upper and lower wings were already fluffing in pleasure and excitement as he sang out down the hallway. "Whoooo wants brownies?"

"Oh. Uh, I-I'll have some later, I'm pretty full right…" Sam trailed off as Gabriel walked into the living room. "You already put 'em on a plate, huh? And there's ice cream, too."

"Soft-serve." Gabriel lifted the bowl, waggled his eyebrows. "Can't refreeze it without ruining it." Ignoring the fact he totally, absolutely could if he wanted to.

Sam probably knew that, too, but Gabriel watched him waver. He was on the couch, long legs spread, belt unbuckled and the jeans he'd worn to dinner undone. They'd just gotten home from dinner with Castiel and Dean. Dean had chosen the place, a diner both he and Sam had apparently agreed years ago had the best burgers either of them had ever eaten. Castiel, the world's leading authority on burgers as far as Gabriel was concerned, had definitely seemed sufficiently blown away.

Sam had a hand on his stomach, really drawing the eye to the round shape of it, and there was a warm strip of that tan skin Gabriel couldn't seem to keep his mouth off of visible between waistband and hem. There was something sleepy and content in his eyes and Dad, it was _so fucking cute._ Or hot. Halfway between cute and hot. Cot? Hute? Gabriel would figure it out later. Maybe there was a word in Enochian for it.

"Okay." Sam heaved a massive sigh, finally, and held both hands out for the plate and the bowl. Gabriel's feathers fluffed even harder as he handed them over. "But this is the _only_ thing I want tonight, Gabe. Okay?"

Gabriel's eyes were on Sam's belly, so nice and bloated. He'd been getting so soft lately. Not that he didn't also totally love Sam when he was all long and lean, full of hard angles and ridges from running five miles a day and the mandatory training his job made him do. This was just different. And awesome.

"Okay?" Sam repeated. Gabriel obediently bobbed his head.

Castiel waited until the conversation had wrapped up, then told Gabriel, _Sam has added a significant amount of body fat lately, Gabriel._

_Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. That's from eating? Like, from food?_

Castiel was absolutely, palpably appalled.

_You're a baker. You own a bakery. Almost all of your customers would have metabolic needs extremely similar to Sam's. How is this new information for you?_

_I don't know, but it totally is._

_You've also been courting a human for_ three _years._ Three. _And you don't know overconsumption leads to weight gain?_

 _You've been dating one for two and you still can't wrap your Grace around the word "boyfriend,"_ Gabriel countered. Or "dating," apparently.

From the way Castiel felt in his head, Gabriel had no doubt he was all ruffled and rasping and confusing the hell out of Dean, who'd have literally no idea what'd gotten lodged under Castiel's tailfeathers. It was kinda funny. Gabriel let his amusement make its way over to Castiel as he walked around the back of the couch, bending down to wrap his arms around Sam's shoulders.

Sam had long hair, all wavy, hints of curl here and there. Gorgeous silky plumage that caught the light, coffee-colored normally but lit up with all these different shades of caramel and red velvet and chocolate and cinnamon in the sun. Gabriel nuzzled into it, chirring, and let his upper wings drape down.

Sam smelled like his brother, and he smelled like Gabriel, Gabriel thought as he buried his nose where Sam's hair swept over his neck. Leather and sugar. Good combo, they oughta bottle it.

Sam chuckled through a full mouth. Realizing his wings were kind of in the way of him eating, Gabriel bent his wrists, angling his primaries out. But Sam set the bowl and plate down on his thigh, Gabriel saw when he peeked over his shoulder, then grabbed one of Gabriel's alulas and gave it a fond squeeze.

"You always smell sweet, y'know that?" Sam asked in a murmur, pulling Gabriel's wing closer so he could kiss his coverts. White first and foremost, Gabriel's upper wings were layered with shades of tawny and gold, and speckled with darker browns. Sam had said once they looked like toasted marshmallows and Gabriel loved the comparison.

"Mm." Gabriel playfully nipped the back of Sam's head. "Speak for yourself, Sammich."

Sam picked up the brownies and ice cream again. "Probably not gonna be able to finish all these," he warned. Gabriel leaned around his head again, watching him scoop up soft serve with a brownie like he was eating chips and salsa. His lower wings twitched lightly.

"That's fine." Gabriel paused. "Soooo...they any good?"

Sam snorted.

"Like you don't already know the answer to that." He took a huge bite, and Gabriel laughed.

Castiel cut in again then. _Gabriel, do you know how much humans usually have to consume? On average. A healthy amount._

 _Well,_ Gabriel hedged, _I know they have to eat. Obviously._

_Do you know how much of each distinct nutritional group?_

_Wait, so there are, like...specific requirements?_

Gabriel could literally feel Castiel folding his wings in tight and sighing through his nose, displeased.

_Have you been feeding Sam anything besides pastries?_

_Of course I have!_ Gabriel protested defensively. And it wasn't even a lie, technically. Sure, pretty much all Gabriel made and offered Sam at home was some kind of baked good. Because quiche and pot pies and savory tarts probably counted as pastries under Castiel's classification. But Sam ate plenty of other stuff outside of the house, at work, and when he went out with friends, and Dean. Salads. Wraps. Whatever else it was he liked.

 _You need to be a better steward of Sam's mortal body,_ Castiel told Gabriel in his dispassionate way. Ugh, seraphs...Gabriel felt bad as soon as he had the thought. _Dean's informed me that, even though Sam's tastes appear to have changed significantly in maturity, he had a…"sweet tooth" as an eyas -_

_Kid, Cassie. Kid._

_\- that likely remains, and you need to stop taking advantage of that. You're an archangel, Gabriel. You should be behaving like one._

Gabriel was affronted. He tried not to broadcast it, not even with his wings, but Castiel seemed to pick up on it anyhow, tone and feel softening.

_I apologize. That was far too harsh. I know how you feel about Sam...you meant no harm._

_No,_ Gabriel agreed. _And I get it, trust me. It's just…_

He rested his head on Sam's shoulder, framed him with his upper wings as he watched him eat. His eyes were on his stomach. He could see one of his lovely little moles, and he was just so _round,_ shirt really starting to ride up now. Gabriel swore he really could see Sam's belly expand every time he swallowed.

 _What is it?_ Castiel wanted to know.

Sam's thighs, which had always been powerful but long and lean, were starting to get thicker. His cheekbones weren't nearly as sharp, making his face look younger. There was budding softness under that chiseled jaw.

 _Do I really_ have _to stop giving him so much of my baking?_ Gabriel wheedled.

 _You...enjoy this?_ Castiel did not sound like he understood. _The effect it's having on him?_

 _Uh, hell yeah, baby brother._ Gabriel smiled. _C'mon, what's the worst that could happen?_

_You need to stop._

_But he's so cute!_ Gabriel gushed. _I love him like this. Cas, you seriously don't understand, he's like a big pillow. Or a teddy bear. You don't get how_ soft _he is, or how warm, and - you saw his little belly today, think about it. He gets so sleepy when he's chock-full of cupcakes and he's all curled up in my wings, and…_ Gabriel smirked. _Then there's the sex._

_What about it?_

Gabriel blinked. _You...wanna know?_ They were pretty open about it and all. "Communal mindset," Sam had called it once. "Flocking behavior." But Gabriel guessed he'd gotten used to Sam's blushing and stuttering.

_I fail to understand how excess weight on a human body improves intercourse._

_Well, ah...first of all, brother mine. More cushion for the pushin', if you get what I'm saying._ Gabriel waggled his lower wings, despite knowing Castiel couldn't see them.

There was a long, long pause. _I'm still failing to understand._

_Ask Dean to explain it to you._

_Why would he - never mind._ Frustration. _It doesn't matter. You know the connection now, between food and weight gain, and you know what's happening to Sam shouldn't be. Are you going to be more careful with him?_

 _Okay, okay, fine._ Gabriel rolled his eyes. _Whatever. You're just totally against me having any fun at all, aren't you?_

A short pause.

_You know I'm not._

_All right, bye, Cas. Night._ Gabriel closed the line. A second later, he realized Sam was looking up at him, head tipped back. Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "What're you staring at?"

Almost finished with what Gabriel had given him, Sam was looking significantly fuller. Instead of answering right away, he let out a tiny, quiet belch, and Gabriel nearly overdosed on how adorable it was. He was _so big._ And he made such little noises.

"Were you talking to Cas?" he asked. "Y'know, that...thing you guys do. Angel radio."

"Yeah," Gabriel admitted, straightening up and folding his wings.

"What about?" Sam chased the dregs of ice cream around the bowl with half a brownie.

"Just what a good time he and Dean had tonight." Gabriel nuzzled the side of Sam's head. "You want a beer?"

"Yes," Sam began, clearing his throat, "but I want you to walk into the kitchen and get it."

Gabriel, who'd literally been just about to snap his fingers, dropped his hand and groaned loudly.

"Gabe, I have got a freshly runed-up amulet in my office right now, and if it picks up any active divine magic before I can enchant it - "

"I know, I know." Dad, he wished Sam wouldn't bring work home with him. "I'm going."

Gabriel would grab Sam a bottle or two of that vanilla milk stout he'd picked up for him the other day. But as payment for his troubles, he was also bringing back a raspberry-lemon tartlet to hand-feed him.

It'd taste good, the sour. After all that sweet.

* * *

It was spring. New holidays, new tastes, new year. Every season meant a complete overhaul of Gabriel's menu, an evaluation of what was selling and what wasn't, plans for temporary items, and a flurry of baking, buying, and experimenting.

Gabriel pretended it was a necessity, but really, it was an excuse.

He was even more excited about it this year, because this time, he had something he hadn't ever had before: a taste-tester.

Sam was...Sam, which was to say he was awesome at listening and understanding. He had a three-day weekend that lined up perfectly, and was game to tap his observations out on his laptop as he reclined on the couch and Gabriel brought him pastry after pastry after pastry, telling him exactly what it was.

"White-chocolate tulip cup with lime and strawberry mousse."

"Lavender-lemon doughnut."

"Egg cream mooncake."

"This one's just...y'know, a cupcake. Yellow cake. The bunny ears are fondant."

And, well, as long as he had the opportunity...Gabriel went ahead and got Sam's feedback on all his year-round items, too. For research purposes. Totally okay that it brought the list of stuff they had to get through up into the hundreds.

Sam was thorough. Gabriel would've been okay with him taking one or two bites and tossing the rest (if disappointed), but no, he had to eat every piece of every cookie and bun. Then he had to lick his fingers clean.

They weren't even an hour into Saturday before Sam, grunting and shifting, had to unbutton his jeans. He never closed them again. He spent the weekend with his long legs slung down the couch, hair up in a messy bun, pillows piled behind him, and belly filled to its sloshing, wobbling brim with carbs and calories. He had a sleepy, contented look on his face, snuggled into his spot with his round stomach completely exposed and his laptop at his side.

Gabriel baked up a storm, humming happily to himself, flour on his wings and sugar itching between his feathers, and listened to a chorus of soft belches and hiccups and groans from the living room. He may have made the couch bigger, Sam's pillows squashier. No amulets to fuck up this time.

Sam didn't entirely deflate for the whole weekend. He just kept getting bigger and wider. Gabriel rubbed his middle, helped him to bed at the end of every day. He could feel his pulse in his lower wings the entire time. Even the feathers on his upper ones were ruffled. Made sense, since he'd never gotten Sam this full before.

Considering how tired and lazy and snuggly Sam usually got when he was stuffed, he held out a really long time. Gabriel was proud of him. But by the time Monday night rolled around, he was done taking notes. Just couldn't manage it anymore. Could hardly stay awake, even.

From a totally analytical perspective, it was useless to feed Sam the rest of what Gabriel had made. He couldn't give any feedback, and that'd been the point of this entire thing. Lucky for Sam and Gabriel both, though, Gabriel hadn't ever been super into "points" or "purposes" when they got in the way of what he really wanted to do.

Sam sucked sugar glaze off Gabriel's fingers. Tip of his upper wing on the back of Sam's head, supporting him, Gabriel cooed encouragement, rubbing the contently-gurgling gut that he'd spent all weekend feeding. He floated over a slice of plum, peach, and blackberry pie.

"So _full,_ Sammy, what a good boy…"

Gabriel balanced cake doughnut holes, chocolate, vanilla, white, lemon, cherry, sour cream, on and on, in the slot between two primary feathers, and let them run slowly down into Sam's mouth one by one, like a conveyor belt. Wing spread and bent at an awkward angle, Gabriel moved down between Sam's long legs, hands on his thighs. He was in sweats today, apparently comfier than jeans. Gabriel squeezed, and groaned. Muscles, lots of muscles, but...mmm. Softness padding them out.

"C'mon." Gabriel wiggled his primaries, sent a blueberry hole bouncing down into Sam's waiting mouth. "Eat for me baby, that's it."

He kissed the hot, tight skin of Sam's stomach, nuzzling it, then nosed lower. He pulled the waistband of his gray sweatpants and boxers down with one finger when he got there, and let Sam's cock and balls spill out. A warm, electric shiver ran through all four of Gabriel's wings, every feather standing on end. Sam was hard. And dripping.

Gabriel flicked up the silvery little drop of precome that'd come creeping out of Sam's flushed slit when he freed his cock, then unfolded one of his lower wings. This set was cream and white, whisper-strokes of gold and coffee around the edges, and the shafts were flushed a healthy, throbbing pink with blood. Gabriel hooked an alula, longer and more flexible than the ones on his upper wings, around Sam's cock, and stroked slowly up and down the shaft. Sam quivered, and his belly sloshed just above Gabriel's head.

"Attaboy, Sammy." He let another doughnut hole fall into Sam's mouth, then patted the side of his stomach. "I know how much you love my wings."

Lower wing on the thick, veiny shaft of Sam's dick, Gabriel took the blushing head of it into his mouth. Sweat, musk, soap, human skin, the bitter tang of precome. All of those were familiar to Gabriel, the flavor of Sam, and he welcomed them. Now, though? Now, he could've sworn he tasted a hell of a lot of sugar, too.

He suckled. Sam moaned above him. He squeezed with his alula, and Sam's hips gave a little jerk. He couldn't go far, though. Too damn heavy.

"Gabe," Sam gasped out, then belched, groaning. When yet another doughnut hole rolled up against his mouth, Gabriel felt him let it in.

"Shh," Gabriel soothed, lifting his mouth momentarily off Sam and leaving behind slick strings of saliva, "I gotcha, Samsquatch, don't worry."

He went back down. He'd been pretty young when his big brother Lucifer offered to teach him how to give a blowjob. He and Castiel, obviously, hadn't left yet. There were a lot of things he hated about the place they were from, but he definitely didn't regret that. Because the things Lucifer's technique did to people with cocks...they oughta either lock him up or give him the Nobel Peace Prize, Gabriel wasn't even sure which.

With a series of obscene slurps, Gabriel swallowed Sam's dick almost all the way down to the root, nose pressed against his own damp alula. Sam had a hell of a girth to him; Gabriel would've been able to break a choker on him if he'd tried, and if his throat had been designed for anything other than talking, there was no way he could've taken him. He hummed around Sam, teeth tucked behind his lips, then started bobbing up and down. He kept it slow at first, built up gradually. Wherever his mouth wasn't, skin left spit-slick and dusky, he was stroking with his alula. He brought in his other lower wing, feathers like cashmere on Sam's balls, fondling and tugging them between alula and coverts.

He tried to glance up at Sam out of habit, but all he saw was the swollen tan expanse of his stomach. Gabriel's forehead bumped against it as he went up and down. His wings shuddered.

He'd done some research since he'd talked to Castiel. Everything he'd fed Sam, all those extra calories...where were they gonna wind up? Thicker thighs? Rounder face? Wider ass? More squishy belly? Every option sounded fantastic to Gabriel. He shuddered again, and Sam made a second half-assed thrust into his mouth.

Gabriel put hands on Sam's thighs, holding him firmly in place. Couldn't have him burning any unnecessary calories, after all.

_This feels good, doesn't it? Me sucking you off while your poor belly's stuffed so full of my baking you can't hardly move? We should do this all the time._

Sam grabbed for Gabriel's wing, the only one of the four that wasn't feeding him doughnuts or stripping his cock. He fisted a hand in the coverts, gasping between bites, and something at the core of him juddered. Precome squirted down Gabriel's throat, twice, and each time, he gladly swallowed.

_Getting close there, Sammy?_

He'd built up to a breakneck pace with his bobbing. He'd just gone down again, and now, he pulled all the way back up Sam's length, until his lips were resting against his head. And he did it agonizingly slow, one pulsing-hard inch drawn out of him at a time. He didn't move either lower wing while he did it.

A frustrated moan rolled out of Sam when Gabriel didn't move, punctuated by a belch at the end. His legs spread further, his hand in Gabriel's feathers trembled. "Gabe…"

In response, Gabriel took his wing off Sam's cock.

"C'mon, _please…_ " Sam's voice was a desperate whine. Gabriel figured he'd better stop teasing him.

He swallowed him down, all the way to the very root, in one quick go, cheeks hollow and throat vibrating with a hum. At the same time, he gave Sam's balls a firm tug with the wing he had on them and, on a whim or maybe instinct, pushed the other lower wing into the underside of the bloated gut above him. And even as he did that, he let the last doughnut hole fall into Sam's mouth.

As always, the perfect storm approach worked like a charm, and Sam exploded down Gabriel's throat in a hot froth of come. Gabriel swallowed in huge gulps as Sam shuddered and tried, futilely, to buck into his mouth. There was a lot this time, but Gabriel didn't want to spill a single drop.

He was disappointed. It didn't taste like the sweet cream he'd been expecting.

_I need to feed you more sugar, obviously._

When it ended, Gabriel pulled off Sam's softening cock, licking his lips as he straightened up. A drop of come rolled out of the corner of his mouth, so he caught it on the tip of a feather and licked it off. He glanced up at Sam, to see his reaction to that, but his eyes were closed and his head had fallen to one side. Gabriel blinked.

He touched Sam's belly, giving it a rub, and Sam made a content little noise in his sleep. The fullness, the orgasm...together, they must've just knocked him right out.

Gabriel put the wrist joint of an upper wing in his mouth and bit down so he wouldn't squee too loudly. It was just too _cute_.

He opened a line to Castiel, made sure he got a good view of Sam, and let him see what Gabriel was seeing. He got shock and heavy disapproval less than a second later.

 _Gabriel_ -

 _Relax, Cassie, don't get your tailfeathers in a twist,_ Gabriel responded cheekily. _It was for work. He wanted to help me._

_Did he?_

Gabriel smiled down at Sam, then bent to nuzzle his tummy. Sam made another happy, sleepy noise.

_Oh, yeah._

* * *

Gabriel woke up one night to Sam crawling out from under his wing and getting out of bed. Disoriented, he watched him shuffle out of the room. The bathroom was the other way. Where was he going?

Gabriel sat up once he was alone, hitching his wings up so the feathers wouldn't bend against the bed. Sam had had nightmares, when they first got together. Insomnia. Not super uncommon in his line of work, even where he was on the research side of things, and definitely not when you considered his...upbringing. But he'd been doing so much better for so long.

Worried, Gabriel got up, too, and followed Sam. He was in the kitchen. Gabriel flicked on the light.

Sam started, squinting as the light burned his eyes. He was standing there in pajama pants and an old Zeppelin T-shirt, both of them getting too small, shape of his plump belly on full display. His hair was an absolute mess, like always when he got up. And there was a croissant between his teeth. He took it out of his mouth to speak.

"Gabe, sorry, I didn't mean to wake - "

"Are you hungry?" Gabriel interrupted him. The worry was gone, replaced by a shiver of delight crawling through his feathers.

Sam looked embarrassed. He crammed the rest of the croissant in his mouth, cleaned his fingers off with a couple of licks, waited to talk until after he'd swallowed.

"I mean, I was a little, but - "

Gabriel swept past him in a fluff of feathers and excitement. He opened containers and cabinets, uncovered dishes sitting on the counter, brought ingredients marching out of the refrigerator, settled a pot on the stovetop…

"Oh, no, Gabe, I really don't - "

Gabriel quieted Sam's protests with a slice of sponge cake, floated directly into his mouth, then got to work. Milk, semisweet chocolate, sugar, just a little butter...it wasn't hot chocolate unless you made it from scratch.

Sam was still half-asleep, all pliable and open to suggestion. He must've been a lot hungrier than he thought, too, because he let Gabriel feed him after sitting him down at the kitchen table with mug after mug of rich hot chocolate, until his belly was poking fully out of his pajamas. Soft and round and oh-so-squeezable, though Gabriel held back, knowing how sensitive it probably was.

"I'd really like to go for a run in the morning," Sam warned between bites of an oatmeal-cranberry cookie. "At this rate, I'm still gonna be too full by the time my alarm goes off...seems like I'm always too full these days, so I'm really wanting to get one in."

"It'll be fine," Gabriel assured, pouring Sam another cup of hot chocolate fresh from the pot. "Trust me."

Sam did, apparently. Gabriel herded him back to bed with his wings, a baker's dozen of red velvet cupcakes in tow, then wrapped him up in downy feathers and magicked away the crumbs as he popped morsel after morsel into Sam's mouth.

"Hope I can at least go to work," Sam muttered before taking a bite of the latest cupcake Gabriel offered him, resigned.

Gabriel nuzzled him, cooing, and gave his full stomach a gentle pat. If he couldn't, then he'd take care of him.

Once Sam was asleep again, belly looking supremely well-fed as a bloated, gently-rounded dome of gurgling flesh, Gabriel rubbed dreamily at it with his head on Sam's chest. He was full of the warm satisfaction of a job well done.

As he drifted off himself, Gabriel thought about Sam growing so huge and soft he couldn't even fit him in his upper wings, even with their fourteen-foot span. So big he could use his belly as a bed. Just lay on top of him and feed him cake and cream day in and day out, feeling him plumping up underneath him with each second that passed.

* * *

_Do I wanna expand?_

That simple thought, spurred by a customer commenting on how she wished Gabriel's bakery had a location closer to her place across town, had given Gabriel a two-week headache.

Metaphorically. Archangel-level healing powers meant stuff like that usually didn't bother him. But puzzling this out had still been a giant pain in the ass.

He stalked around the apartment he shared with Sam, located above the shop, in agitation. His wings were ruffled (and not in a good way) and askew. He sat back down only to hop right back up, feeling like his thought process had stalled out - Sam had called him a kinetic thinker once, same as Dean, and he was probably right. The place was littered with stress-molted feathers, scratch paper, and whiteboards Gabriel had snapped into existence for himself to draw and plan on.

It gave the illusion of progress, and he'd take all he could get right now.

Sam offered, day after day, to help out. He was definitely a numbers person, all analytical, even though Gabriel was not. He could figure it out for him. Both whether or not he should open a new bakery and how to implement it if he did. Even though Gabriel shut him down, since this was his business he'd built from the ground up, Sam was sympathetic. For a while.

This week, though, there'd been a contamination at headquarters. Gabriel wasn't sure what; Sam mentioned sex pollen, but had refused to say anything else about it after Gabriel reacted way too enthusiastically to those two words together. So he'd had to pack up all his books and files and systems and instruments and artifacts and miscellaneous gross shit and work fully from home.

Gabriel wasn't too upset about it. This way, Sam wouldn't be sharing all the food he usually made for him to take to the office with him. Those cinnamon crumb cakes were for his belly alone. At home, he'd been snacking constantly, so lovely and full and content all the time as he ate whatever Gabriel put next to his current leather-bound book. It was the one bright spot.

"Gabe, every single time you summon something out of thin air o-or snap an extra room into existence, it fucks with my gear."

Sam tipped his head backwards over the top of the couch to look at Gabriel as he rustled past. Gabriel turned to him.

" _You're_ fucking with my creative process, Sammich. I told you to ward your office."

"Dude. I'm using ones so strong even I can't be in there, and you keep _burning them out._ "

Gabriel's wings slumped. "Sorry."

"Why don't you…" Sam gestured to the space next to him. "C'mon. Just...take a breath, 'kay?" He frowned. "I haven't seen you like this since that guy at Walmart thought you were a harpy. When's the last time you preened?"

"Um…"

"Sit down, Gabriel."

Gabriel shuffled over, draping all four wings over the low back of the couch as he lowered himself with a sigh. It felt both good and not to stop moving. Like he'd just quit flying full-speed in the current of an industrial fan, but that was also the only remotely useful thing he could do right now.

"Better? A little?"

Gabriel looked at Sam, and his cute little work-from-home outfit. He was in a pair of jeans he'd bought a week ago that were already looking tight, and an old Stanford hoodie, once huge, now snugly cradling his gut. His hair was up in the sort of half manbun thing Gabriel loved on him, even though it interfered some with nuzzling and petting. His soft face was full of insistent concern, cheekbones muffled and a swell of pudge under his jaw that was more than halfway to a second chin.

Gabriel shifted closer. Sam's ass took up more room on the couch, a lot more, than it'd used to, he noted, which got a weak twitch out of his lower wings.

"Yeah," he admitted, laying his head on Sam's shoulder and putting a hand on the warm swell of his belly, "I guess."

Sam set the big, musty-smelling book he'd been leafing through aside, next to the plate of bear claws he had sitting on the arm of the couch. Twisting at the waist, he turned towards Gabriel, and started carding through the marginal coverts on one of his upper wings. Gabriel spread it obligingly.

Sam made a noise Gabriel couldn't quite decipher. Disgust-concern-guilt. "I feel like I oughta call Cas over to deal with this."

"You're better at it than he ever was," Gabriel muttered, letting his eyes fall closed as he began to rub gentle circles on Sam's stomach.

Sam had Gabriel take his shirt off, and started sorting out his feathers from scapulars to primaries right there on the couch. With the amount of times he touched two fingers to the preen gland in between his lower wings, Gabriel must have really been neglecting himself. He felt himself smoothing out into a warm, comfortable state, wings loosely spread to give Sam access, the two of them pressed together on the couch, Sam's hands on Gabriel's wings and Gabriel's on Sam's stomach. Kneading, working, massaging. It had a layer of chubby softness on top and then so much give to it, even though it was as full of sweets as it always was. His Sammy could eat so much. Had such a nice tummy on him. He was so cute, loved Gabriel's baking so much, everybody did…

Gabriel's eyes popped open. Gears were turning.

He pushed past the mild arousal that came from both Sam's plush body and Sam's big, callused hands slicking the shafts of his long feathers with oil, and snapped his fingers. A whiteboard appeared in front of him, floating. Bobbing up and down because Gabriel thought that was fun.

Sam pulled away a little. "Did I not just - "

"Shh, Sammy." Gabriel floated one of the neglected bear claws right into his mouth as rainbow lines scrawled and sketched themselves onto the board. "Genius at work, do not interrupt. Eat your snack."

He had both hands on Sam's stomach as he stared intently at the whiteboard, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Sam kept preening his wings, for a while, but gave up eventually. Gabriel didn't mind. They were good enough for now.

Sam finished off the bear claws. Gabriel let him be for a few minutes as he rolled his wrists and pushed in the heels of his hands. He switched to the pads of his fingers, frowned, and got up, hurrying into the kitchen only to return with a platter of baklava.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he said impatiently, shoving it at Sam. "I need you firmer. Now."

"What - "

"Now, Sam!"

Gabriel played with Sam's big, squishy belly as it got steadily bigger and squishier. The two of them took turns stuffing Sam's face. Gabriel adjusted the consistency of him, as needed, with melon bread and mousse, ice cream, macarons, cannolis, truffles, fudge, turnovers, custard. More whiteboards appeared, colorful explosions of cost-analysis charts and possible kitchen layouts.

By the time Gabriel had it all worked out, Sam had been fed into a bloated, whining mess. Gabriel looked down at him as he panted and whimpered, and felt a strong, bitter flash of guilt. He was absolutely not sharing this one with Castiel. No matter how...incredibly, tooth-rottingly, wing-achingly adorable Sam looked right now.

Gabriel kissed Sam's overstuffed gut, then nuzzled it, chirring gently.

"Thanks, Sammy. I'm sorry. I'll take care of you."

* * *

" _C'mon, baby, just one more, you don't wanna waste it."_

Things were going awesome.

" _Are you sure you don't want it? It's your favorite."_

Gabriel's second location was coming along nice, Sam had gotten a promotion at work ( _Senior_ Occult Researcher, how fancy), and Gabriel was massively enjoying his new hobby. Pun totally intended.

" _Oh, good boy. That was the full dozen."_

Castiel was not at all pleased. He sniped at Gabriel constantly every time the four of them got together, which was a lot, and over "angel radio," as Sam called it. Gabriel could not have cared less.

" _I know you already had the one tray, but there's actually another…"_

Dean ribbed Sam, too. Weird thing about it was that, to Gabriel, he kinda looked oddly pleased as he poked Sam's stomach, jiggled his love handles, called him a butterball.

" _Mm, Sammy, I love your tummy so full…"_

 _Butterball._ That was a nickname Gabriel could get behind.

" _Attaboy. You finish that off, and I'll see if I can't make you feel good."_

Sam bitched about how it'd been months since he'd last been out on the trails or to the gym. For a while. Eventually, he stopped bringing it up. Stopped trying to get Gabriel not to feed him in the morning or after work, stopped coming home or waking up full. Just ate, and expected the food.

" _Ooh, Sammich. Really starting to get chunky, huh?"_

On the days Sam had off, or worked remotely, Gabriel was careful not to neglect him. He was usually busy, but he could have his employees, who ranged from werewolves to djinn to cherubs, run extras and samples up to him. Gabriel beamed when they commented on the weight Sam had gained.

" _Not very soft here yet. I think somebody needs more brownies."_

Sam started buying his clothes five sizes up, just to cut down on how often he had to replace them. He was smart when it came to stuff like that.

" _Hm, you feel kinda empty. Good thing I just made cinnamon rolls."_

During the movie nights that were a pillar of their relationship, Sam laid against Gabriel's chest, wrapped up in his wings. It worked even with how much taller he was. He let himself be fed, sucking on fingers and carding his hands through feathers, until he was as sleepy and full and cuddly as Gabriel wanted him.

Gabriel absolutely took care of Sam, just like Castiel wanted him to. When he noticed a weird, shiny-red, jagged lightning-bolt stripe near one of Sam's hips, he did some research to figure out what it was. Then he healed that stretch mark and all others he found, and began rubbing lotion into his sweet little butterball's roundest parts nightly. Full-body massages. Oils, edible and not, some harvested directly from Gabriel's wings, drizzled directly onto Sam's ever-expanding belly.

Castiel stopped saying anything to Gabriel, even as Sam got wider and wider and rounder and rounder and his weight ticked up. Just shook his head disapprovingly and often.

" _Gabe, I seriously feel like I'm gonna pop."_

It turned into a favorite game for Gabriel, while he was plowing the plushest ass he'd ever had, wings spread and Sam jiggling, to float bonbons and turnovers and slices of Swiss roll into Sam's mouth. See how full he could get him before they both finished. The original goal was for his belly to touch the bed, and Gabriel had to find something new to shoot for before he knew it, much to his delight.

" _Five more minutes. I'm still full from last night."_

Sam sucked whipped cream off Gabriel's cock, ate madeleines off his feathers.

" _Ugh, again? I literally just bought these jeans."_

Midnight snacks became an everyday occurrence. If Sam didn't wake up on his own, Gabriel did it for him. It was too good, to sleep with his arms and wings folded around that nice, full middle all night. Listen to Sam softly burping and hiccuping for hours on end.

" _Yeah, it's a really big project, and I'm supposed to have it finished up by eleven, so, uh...could you make me some brownies? And some cookies. Yeah, sugar. Oh, and that cake you did last week, the lemon thing. And I don't know, pie, and - "_

Anytime Gabriel had to puzzle out anything remotely like a problem, or just wanted to think, or was bored, his hands went immediately to Sam's stomach. Sometimes he needed it packed taut and groaning, sometimes he liked it soft and sloshing with beer and melted ice cream. Sometimes it was the slow swell and expansion of feeding Sam piles of sugary dough. No matter what, once he figured out how he needed the gut he'd been tending to, it worked like a charm for him.

" _Gabe, there is no way in hell I can get up right now, so if you really want me to finish those cream puffs, you're gonna have to go get 'em for me yourself._ No _, no snapping, my gear's home today, remember?"_

Weekends were for nonstop spoiling Sam. Gabriel wasn't happy unless he was tucked up on the couch or in bed, belly full as he could get it without hurting. He cooed to it in Enochian, laying next to a snoozing Sam with fluffed wings and a leaking dick, tracing out love sigils on soft, soft flesh.

" _You have gotta stop feeding me so much."_

Summer came. Fall. New menus...and Sam tested all of them for Gabriel.

" _I mean, sure, what the hell, I've already had, what? Ten tonight?"_

Eventually, Castiel didn't even shake his head anymore.

" _Yeah. Yeah, I love you, too. How's it going? Uh huh. Well, they were awesome, but you only sent up a dozen, and I really need - "_

Though he sure looked at Sam a lot.

" _More. More. Gabe, more. More."_

A _lot_.

* * *

Work was slow for Dean right now, the way it got a few times a year. Work was _not_ slow for Castiel, so Dean was spending his days with Sam and Gabriel. At least things were quiet enough for Castiel to be talking to Gabriel while he was flying over the city on his usual beat.

 _So, Cassie,_ Gabriel began casually, layering cranberry-and-mascarpone millefeuille in the apartment's kitchen, _I think we need to talk about something._

 _What is it?_ As always, Castiel sounded inappropriately grim.

_Well…_

Gabriel leaned around the doorway, and changed the structure of the place just a little bit so that he could see more easily into the living room. The Winchesters were on the couch. Sam was a marshmallow by now, soft, wide, cheeks and an ass and a belly Gabriel could barely resist squeezing every single time he got close enough. And Dean...well, he'd always been softer than his brother. Gabriel wasn't sure he'd ever had Sam's washboard abs. Recently, though, he'd started lapping his belt, and stretching out the seat of his jeans. It was a comfortable look for him. Not to mention (dare he say it?) cute.

They were watching football. Neither of them actually liked it, it was just the only thing they'd been able to agree on. Gabriel was hoping some calories would mellow them out towards each other, get them cuddling for him like they sometimes did.

_Your "Dean," Cas. For starters._

_What about him?_

Gabriel widened his wings a little, since Castiel would get that but not him rolling his eyes.

 _He says you've been going out to a lot of diners, lately. Bringing home fast food. Buying him all kinds of treats, saying it sounded good to you._ Gabriel paused. _You know we don't actually have to eat, right?_

_Yes. I'm aware._

Gabriel waited. Castiel didn't say anything else.

_He's starting to get kiiiinda chubby, isn't he?_

_I don't know what you're talking about._

_C'mon, Cassandra, Dean's fatter now than Sam was when you first got on my case about him. Stop playing dumb._ Gabriel snagged another look at Dean. _We're blowing right past pleasantly plump here, I could walk over there and get a double handful of his gut if I wanted._

Castiel said nothing.

_He also said it was your idea for him to offer to eat anything I haven't sold at the end of the day. Which he did, five minutes after he got here._

Still nothing.

_Pretty adorable, how he just keeps begging for more…_

_Yes,_ Castiel agreed eventually, and Gabriel could feel the embarrassed way he was holding his wings. _I...enjoy him like this. I like his belly. You were right, Gabriel._

Gabriel's wings fluffed.

_Always am._


End file.
